A pound of flesh
by psychoangel86
Summary: Hannibal and Clarice are captured by the Sardinians at Union Station. What does Mason have in store for them?


"**One pound of flesh, no more, no less. No cartilage, no bone, but only flesh. This task is done... and he would go free."**

"Well I think that I have been generous enough with you, and the clues. You're on your own now, Clarice."

"Dr. Lecter?" Clarice held her finger in her open ear to see if should could hear any sign of Lecter. She approached the photo booth, fearing what might be behind the curtain. Her left hand grasped the gun inside her purse. Her heart was racing, she hoped she wouldn't have to use it. She raised her right hand and threw back the curtain. Laying on the seat in the booth, was a pair of black Gucci pumps.

"Hope you like them, Clarice. Ta ta."

Clarice turned away from the booth and left the Union Station. On her way back to her Mustang, she saw a van across the lot speeding in reverse. She stopped and pulled out her earpiece. The van screeched to a halt and two men threw another in the back. A hard blow struck the back of Clarice's head. The world dimmed, but she refused to succumb to unconsciousness. The man who hit her picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. He ran to the van that was moving toward him.

The back doors flew open and Clarice was roughly dumped onto the floor of the van. The van sped away from the Station. She reached for her gun in her purse and heard the familiar click of a pistol being cocked. She froze and looked up to the man in the front seat. A greasy fat man with a gold chain around his neck smiled at her.

"You will not need that." The man nodded to the other man in the back. He took her purse from her and unloaded her gun. "Now you sit there and be good. We will get out soon," the man in the front seat said, laughing.

Clarice sat back against the side of the van. At her feet lie Dr. Hannibal Lecter, bleeding from the mouth but fully conscious. His hands were in handcuffs, chained to the floor of the van. He looked up at her apologetically, sorry that she had been brought into this. "Good to see you again," he said.

"I wish I could say the same, Doctor."

"Did you like the shoes? I would have dropped them off at your house, but this way was more fun, don't you think?"

"Shut up you old fool," the Sardinian across from Clarice hissed and gave a sharp kick to Lecter's ribs. Lecter winced, then removed all expression from his face.

"Was that really necessary?" Clarice asked the Sardinian.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. Why did you have to go and kick him?"

The Sardinian tapped the firearm at his side. "You should shut up too. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun now would we?"

Clarice looked at him and then down at Lecter. His eyes were closed and appeared to be deep in thought. She sighed. She brought up her knees and crossed her arms over them. She laid her forehead on her arms and waited until the van stopped at their destination.

Forty-five minutes later, the van stopped outside of a barn. The two Sardinians in the front got out of the van and came around to the back. They opened the back doors and dragged Lecter out. Clarice watched, waiting. The two Sardinians disappeared inside the barn with Lecter, dragging Lecter along roughly between them. She looked over to the other Sardinian across from her. "Come on, bitch, you're coming with me."

The Sardinian got out first and waited for her to follow. He took the handcuffs out of her purse and slapped them on her wrists as soon as she was within reach. Clarice glared at him. The Sardinian walked her inside the barn. "Now you will stay here for a little while," he said while cuffing her to the bars of an unoccupied horse stall.

He walked away further into the barn leaving Clarice alone. She surveyed her surroundings looking for anything that might help her get out of this situation. The stall was bare save for some dirt on the floor. She leaned against the door, contemplating. _Damn! Why did I ever leave my house this morning? Especially to follow the directions of a known serial killer? Did I think he would actually let me bring him in? Yeah, right. And how the hell am I going to get out of this one? Pretty smart, girl. Follow a serial killer but he's not the one I should be afraid of. No, it's the fat men that smell like manure that I should be afraid of. Fuckin' A. Think, Clarice, think!_

Her thoughts were interrupted by shouts coming from another part of the barn. She couldn't quite make out the words, but they didn't sound kind. She could pick out three different men, most likely the men that she and Lecter were captured by. That only meant that they were probably alone with Lecter and who knows what they were doing to him.

Two hours had passed and Clarice was starting to get tired. Her legs were weak from standing, her arms were strained from being cuffed, and the cries from the other side of the barn still had not stopped. She wished she could sit down but the cuffs were placed too high and she couldn't reach the floor. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She listened to the noise. They seemed to become less and less frequent. Within ten minutes, they had altogether stopped. Then she heard two sets of footsteps coming closer.

Clarice looked up to see two of the Sardinians, drenched with sweat, coming toward her. She was uncuffed and taken further into the barn. She took advantage of the movement to stretch her legs and get the blood moving through her arms once again. Each man had a hold of one of her arms and half carried, half dragged her through the barn.

She was brought through a doorway to a brightly illuminated pen. Large lights were placed on all sides focusing on the center of the pen. In the middle, there were two posts sticking up from the ground placed four feet apart. Bound to one of the posts was Lecter, with his head hanging down, lying on his chest. He was once again wearing the mask that he had worn nearly eight years ago.

The Sardinians led Clarice over to the post across from Lecter. They pushed her up against it, facing Lecter, and cuffed her hands behind the post. Then they tied a leather strap tightly across the top of her shoulders and chest, fastening her to the pole. "Now you two be good. Don't worry, we will have fun later," the one Sardinian laughed.

The men walked out of the pen, making jokes between themselves. Clarice listened to their fading voices until she could no longer hear them. Silence enveloped the two. She raised her head to look at Lecter. It was difficult for her to admit, but he was a sad sight to look upon.

He was also bound with leather straps across his shoulders, chest, and lower legs. His chin rested on his chest. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the black and blue bruises that covered what she could see of his body. A thin stream of blood ran out of the corner of his mouth. There was a long cut on his left arm that still had not stopped bleeding. There was what appeared to be a cigarette burn mark on the right side of his neck. He looked so peaceful.

Clarice decided to break the silence. "Dr. Lecter?" she said quietly. Nothing. He didn't stir, not even a twitch of the eyelids. "Dr. Lecter?" she said a little louder. "Are you okay?" She studied him waiting for him to respond.

Deep into the halls of his memory palace, in a dimly lit room filled with the sights of beautiful Florence, Dr. Lecter faintly heard a soft voice echoing through the corridors, calling to him. He stopped playing the piano that was in the middle of the room and cocked his head to one side, fingers hovering above the ivory keys. The sweet voice called to him again. He felt as if he had been awakened from a deep, dreamless slumber. He rose from the grand piano and slowly moved toward the fading echoes of the voice. The smooth flow of air over the vocal cords of the angelic creature calling to him, touched him deeply as he had not been since the years of his youth.

Her song was honey that poured forth from her delicate body. He drank of her nectar and drifted nearer. He filled his lungs with her fragrance, savoring every breath as if it would suddenly fade away to leave him breathless, alone, and awake in his bed. He sensed a hint of almonds and a familiar skin cream. This overwhelming information filling his body could only mean one thing. _Clarice_.

He looked back over his shoulder once before he thrust through the doors to his memory palace to the real world. He caught a glimpse of a small girl disappear behind a statue that he frequently saw in Florence. He turned and passed through the doors to find the one who was calling him.

The brilliant light was blinding. Lecter's eyes adjusted quickly. He raised his head off his chest and beheld the woman before him. Her appearance and her being so close, struck him so violently. The image of Clarice, bound and clearly uncomfortable, searching his face expectantly further unearthed emotions that he had only begun to discover.

"Dr. Lecter? Are you alright?"

"Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra," he whispered.

"What?" Clarice leaned her head forward a little.

"Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "Are you okay? What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?" He tried hard to keep his anger from creeping into his voice, unsuccessfully.

"No, they didn't do anything with me. What about you?" They held eye contact. Her eyes were soft, genuinely concerned.

"I think I have a broken rib or two. I'll be sore for a little while, but no need to worry. I'll be fine." His tongue slipped out and licked the blood from the corner of his mouth behind the mask.

"And what about that?"she said nodding to the cut on his arm.

He looked down. "Oh, I didn't even notice. It doesn't look too deep. It will heal fine with barely any scarring."

"I don't think we'll have time for it to heal," she mumbled, staring at the ground. "Fuckin' Mason."

Lecter sensed she had more to say. He waited patiently. After a minute, she continued. "Damn it, Dr. Lecter! Why the hell did you have to come back here? Especially after you killed the Italian detective! I mean, why the hell would you be _here_ right in fucking _Washington_! I'd figure you'd be thousands of miles away by now!" Her head whipped back up to look him in the eye. "Why?"

"Why is the moth attracted to the flame? Why does the poet write in verse? Why do you continue to return to the embrace of your abusive husband the FBI?"

His words cut her. His arrow had hit its mark. He could tell by the glazing over of her eyes. A retraction of her consciousness from the external world. Within a beat or two, she found herself once again. "How dare you," she whispered.

"How dare I what? Ask you about your life? State the facts? Care? What is it, Clarice?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Lecter cocked his head a little to one side. "Ah, but here we are. There's no where to go. No where to run."

Clarice looked down at the ground and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes trying desperately to think clearly. The spot lights shining down on them seemed to brighten and intensify in heat. Sweat had broken out on her forehead. She tried to arch her back but the leather straps held her tightly. "I doubt the answer is on your improved shoes."

Clarice opened her eyes and lifted her head to Lecter again. She stared him down, gazing into those deep, maroon eyes searching for any sign of malicious intent. Neither blinked. "I'm waiting, Clarice," his deep voice rumbling through his chest.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm unhappy? That I wished I'd never joined the FBI? That I wished I didn't do my job so damn good?"

"Tsk tsk, Clarice. What would Daddy say? Are you truly so discontent with your career?"

"It's not my dream job, that's for sure." She paused to take a deep breath. Seeing no way to evade the topic, she continued, "Having to watch my back everywhere I go. Not only watching out for the criminals but also for the men in my office. That damn Krendler fucked everything up for me. Ever since Gumb, he's fucked it all up just so he could get ahead. It doesn't matter what I do. I'm prone to be a royal fuck up and now look where I am." She paused for effect and looked around the room. "I'm tied to a post within a couple feet of America's Most Wanted... no offense."

"None taken."

She looked at him and the corner of her mouth went up, revealing a wry grin. "Damn it. Why did you risk your freedom and even your life, knowing I was being followed, just to give me some shoes?"

"It wasn't about the shoes, Clarice. It –" Lecter was cut off from a loud bang on the other end of the barn. Lecter looked past Clarice towards the noise. Clarice strained her neck, trying to look behind her, but to no avail.

Lecter craned his neck and saw the silhouette of a man approaching. The bright lights in his eyes did not help, but he could tell who it was simply by the scent. It stung his nostrils and nearly made him sick to his stomach, which didn't happen very often. He was briefly brought back to a time when he was a only six years old. A tall soldier walking toward the barn to select his next meal. Lecter's anger rose, the heat rising into his neck. He clenched his teeth and strained against his bonds, testing their strength. They were strong and well bound. He waited for the gruesome creature to come closer.

Paul Krendler finally stepped into view. Clarice regarded him with distaste. "What's wrong, Starling? Not happy to see me?"

"How much did Mason pay you?"

"Well, you get right to the point, don't you?"

"How much?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars," he replied casually. He stood with his hands in his pockets on the side of the posts so he could see the reaction of both of them. He smiled. "Now do you know what I can do to you Starling?"

She didn't move or speak. She held his gaze, wondering what the slime ball would do next. "I've always wanted to get a piece of your corn pone country pussy." He licked his lips and looked over to Lecter. "But what would he say? It doesn't matter, he won't be a problem much longer." Krendler cackled. Lecter looked at him, remaining silent.

Krendler then turned his attention back to Clarice. His left hand jingled in his pocket and withdrew it, along with his other hand. Clarice saw the glint of a pocketknife. Krendler pulled the blade out and flashed it in front of her face. "Now I've given you plenty of chances. So what do you say? Should I fuck you right here and now?"

Krendler placed the pocketknife on her chest directly below the leather straps. He sliced down the front of her shirt to her pants. He pulled the shirt out of her pants and cut the rest of the fabric. The entire time, Clarice refused to look at or acknowledge Krendler. She fixed her eyes on Lecter's. Lecter complied and provided her with something to focus on. Krendler continued.

Cutting the thin fabric of her bra between her breasts, Krendler's eyes lit up. He tugged hard on the bra, ripping it from her body. He brought it to his face and buried his face in its warmth. Then he flung it aside, discarding it on the barn floor. He pulled open the flaps of her torn shirt to expose her breasts. "Mmm," he said, humming his approval. "Now look at that you queer fuck. That is what a man is supposed to want."

Krendler watched Lecter, expecting him to lower his gaze to Clarice's exposed chest. Angry that he wasn't registering a response from either one, he turned back to Clarice and began unbuckling her belt. Once her pants were unbuttoned, he yanked them down to her ankles. He took a step back and admired the view. He licked his lips again.

Clarice took a deep breath. She was pleading with her eyes for Lecter to do something, anything. Lecter returned an apologetic look. Smiling, Krendler stood right in front of Clarice, blocking her view of Lecter. "Now what do you say we get this done and over with quick? I bet you're a tight cold fish," he hissed, running his fingertips over her soft curls. He could feel his erection straining against the tight fabric of his pants.

He leaned forward and pressed up against her, thrusting his pelvis hard into hers. Clarice desperately tried to remove herself from the situation. She thought back to her house in West Virginia when she was a child. She tried to concentrate on the fun times she had with her siblings.

"Mmm... yeah you like that don't you?" Krendler whispered into her ear. Clarice saw Lecter's eyes flare with rage and saw him strain against his bonds. The veins in his neck stuck out as he pulled. Krendler turned around, following Clarice's gaze.

"Oh, you don't like when I do that? Well how about if I do this?" Krendler lowered his head and trailed his tongue from her navel to the valley between her breasts. Then he ran his tongue over to a nipple and sucked lightly.

Clarice was far away within her mind though. Her eyes were fixed in Lecter's direction, but they were void of any sign of life. Lecter looked on as Krendler brought a hand up to cup one of her breasts and squeeze it. Lecter noticed her legs were quivering ever so slightly. He too was deep in thought, calculating, waiting for her misery to end.

A door slammed shut on the other end of the barn. Krendler raised his head from his attentions to Clarice's breasts. He looked to where the sound came from. He saw one of the Sardinians walking towards him. "What the fuck do you want now?"

"Mason wants to talk to you. He said you can fuck her later and for as long as you want."

"Why can't I just do it now?" Krendler was getting pissed.

"Mason says Pearsall has been trying to reach Clarice. They're starting to ask questions."

"Damn it! I ask for one little thing..." he shook his head and looked back to Clarice. "I guess we're gonna have to finish this later, Starling. Don't start without me." He leaned in and ran his tongue along her jawline.

Krendler followed the Sardinian out of the barn, leaving Clarice and Lecter alone once again. Clarice returned once again to the world. Her head hung down and Lecter could see a single tear stream down her cheek. He pretended not to notice. "Are you all right?" he said softly.

Clarice lifted her head and turned her watery eyes to him. Her eyes were filled with sadness, humiliation, and anger. She shook her head and closed her eyes momentarily, "I'll be fine."

The silence in the barn stretched out for what seemed like eternity. Clarice tilted her head back to lean against the post. She closed her eyes and tried to find some peace within herself. Lecter watched her carefully. He could tell she was deep in thought and having an inner battle with herself. He waited patiently.

The intense heat from the lights was bearing down on the two. Sweat had broke out on Lecter's forehead. The mask he wore created a suffocating feeling as the moisture built up on his skin. Lecter noticed that a few droplets of sweat had formed and clung to her chest. He studied them intently as the minutes dragged on. Intrigued, he watched the small water droplets quiver as her chest rose and fell with her every breath. Her head was still tilted back, exposing her neck. He thought she looked exquisite. His eyes flickered as the water droplets formed together and slid down between her breasts to her navel.

Lecter looked back up to her face and found Clarice watching him. She raised an eyebrow, questioning. Then she shook her head, not wanting to hear an answer.

"How long do you think it will be before he comes back?"

"Who can say?"

Clarice stared at the ground between them. Another tear rolled down her cheek. "How the fuck are we going to get out of this one?" she mumbled to herself.

Lecter heard her comment and hummed his agreement. He watched the tear fall from her face into the dirt. A minuscule puff of dust rose up and dissipated.

The silence of the barn was deafening. The thick air pressed in on them from all sides, suffocating them. The minutes stretched on. Lecter shifted against his bonds and felt the weight of the object in his pocket. Then he got an idea.

"Clarice?"

She slowly raised her head to meet his eyes, "Hmmm?"

"Can you reach my pocket?"

Her head snapped to attention with a slight jerk. She narrowed her eyes. "Dr. Lecter, I don't have time for your games."

"Clarice..." He said forcefully, his voiced lowered. She heard the threatening tone and decided he probably wasn't toying with her.

"How can I reach your pocket? My arms are tied pretty tight behind my back. What are you trying to say?"

He grinned and nodded slightly. "I'm trying to say that there is a knife in my pocket. I'm fairly certain you could reach it with your feet and get it to free yourself."

She looked at him, unbelieving. She stared at him for a few moments. "You have a knife in your pocket? Why didn't Mason's men find it?"

"They were more concerned with... other matters."

Clarice swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. She studied the dirt on the ground and lifted her head again when Lecter spoke again. "Clarice, you should start soon. Paul could come back at any moment."

That got her moving. Her mind was reeling, calculating the distance between them and how she was going to manage to do this. Lecter watched as she kicked off her pants that had been sitting around her ankles. She slipped out of her boots and pushed them to the side with her foot.

Clarice paused and stood before Lecter, completely naked from the waist down. Her ripped shirt was still pulled back, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were peaked in the cooling air of the barn, despite the heat of the lamps beating down on them. Clarice pushed aside her inhibitions and focused on the situation at hand. She gazed into Lecter's eyes. "Ok... which pocket?"

"The left."

She nodded. She slowly raised her leg to his left pocket, stretching out her leg and toes as far as she could. Her big toe brushed the outside of his pocket. Clarice let escape a frustrated sigh, "I can just barely reach it. I don't think I can get it." A note of desperation crept into her voice.

"Put your other foot up against my chest. Push against me and the post as you need to. You should be able to reach it and wiggle it out."

"Alright." She pushed down on the ground with her right leg and lifted her left leg up to rest on Lecter's chest, just below his sternum. Suspending her weight between Lecter and the post, she asked, "I'm not hurting you am I? Are your ribs okay?"

Lecter shook his head. "You have to do this. Please continue."

She shifted her weight. Lecter emitted a groan and she looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

Lecter said nothing. He just kept his eyes fixed on hers. She shook her head, "Never mind."

Clarice turned her attention back to her right foot and started lightly feeling the outside of the pocket for the knife. Her toes brushed it and pressed it a little. She absently licked her lips. Her arms tightened behind her, trying to hold as much of her own weight as she could. She curled her toes under and tried to wiggle the knife up toward the opening of the pocket.

The black fabric of Lecter's pants was thick, making any progress rather difficult. Clarice managed to slide the knife up to the opening. She glimpsed a glint of silver that appeared at the top before her toes lost strength. Her foot slid down Lecter's leg, allowing the knife to slip back down to the bottom of his pocket. "Damn," she cursed under her breath.

"Take a deep breath. Relax," Lecter soothed her. Her shoulders loosened and lowered. She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and took a deep breath. "That's right, breathe in and breathe out. Slow." His words carried a power that calmed her from within. His voice was mesmerizing, lulling her to a state of tranquility.

After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes and looked back up to Lecter. "That's right. Now concentrate, Clarice. You can do this."

She nodded. Pushing her leg harder into his chest, just adjusted her weight a bit on the post. Lecter grimaced and let out a quick breath. His discomfort didn't go unnoticed. Deciding against questioning him again, she brought her leg back up and concentrated once again on the task at hand.

Again, she curled her toes under and began wiggling the knife toward the pocket opening. Lecter watched her shapely feet work. He chanced a glance at her bare ankle above his chest. Slim and delicate, but strong. Her unpainted toenails were well-clipped, despite her lack of extensive attention towards herself and her time consuming career.

Her toes were still stroking him, warming his thigh. The silver glint of the knife appeared once more. Steadily and very slowly, Clarice pushed the knife farther out. She pressed it against Lecter's leg to keep it from falling. She inched her toes up and managed to squeeze the knife between her first two toes. Carefully, bending her leg, she started to withdraw the knife and bring it towards her. She lost her balance.

The leg that had been resting at the base of Lecter's sternum slid down his stomach and landed hard on the floor. Her other leg instinctively slammed down to maintain her balance. The knife fell out of her grasp and landed in the dirt and the base of Lecter's feet. "Son of a –" Clarice muttered.

With both feet planted on the ground, she took another deep breath. Then she outstretched her right leg again, reaching for the knife. She tried to slouch down but her bounds held her fast. Her toes were stretched as found as they could, but she still fell an inch short of the knife. Lecter watched on, the anger and frustration building up inside of her. He wished he could help her, but his own feet were tied tightly to the post.

Clarice reached out with her other foot this time and let her weight hang loosely from the leather straps. She let every muscle relax, her leg seemed to lengthen. She could barely touch the knife. Careful not to push it farther away, her toes gradually moved over the knife, millimeter by millimeter. Soon her toes were on the other side of the knife. She curled her toes around it and dragged it through the dirt toward her body.

The leather straps were digging into her skin but she ignored the burning sensation. She slowly pulled the knife toward her and stopped when it was thirty centimeters from her body. She brought her leg back in and shifted back over for her right leg to take over. She curled her toes around the handle, making sure her grip was firm. Carefully lifting the knife, she bent her leg awkwardly behind her. She was silently thankful for her natural agility and ability to stay in shape.

A wave of relief flooded her senses when her fingers came into contact with the knife. She transferred the knife to her hands where she held it tightly. She brought her leg back down and rested for a moment. Lecter's eyes lit up when he saw that she had done it. "Well done," he congratulated her. She answered with a quick, half-smile.

Clarice set to work on the straps that held her hands. She opened the blade and started sawing through the bonds. Once she was free, she arched her back and rolled her shoulders back and forth. Lecter watched her magnificent display. She seemed completely unaware that all she wore was a ripped shirt that failed to completely cover her breasts.

After her brief stretch, she bent down and slipped her pants on. She looked down at her ruined shirt. She quickly tied the two hanging flaps together to make a knot that set just below her breasts. Her flat, toned stomach stretched between her shirt and the top of her pants. Then she slipped on her boots that had been pushed aside. Once she was decently covered again, she turned to Lecter.

Clarice bent down and sliced through the straps that held Lecter's feet. She threw them off to one side. She straightened and cut the remaining bonds. _What am I doing? He's a serial killer!_ she thought. _Fuck it, I'm not going to leave him here to let God knows what happen him_. Once Lecter was free, he reached up to remove the dreadful mask. After it was off, he put it between his hands and, with little difficulty, snapped it in two. He casually dropped the pieces and took a step closer to Clarice.

They were eye to eye, less than an inch separating their heated bodies. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Thank me later. Now let's get out of here, Dr. Lecter," she said and turned around heading towards the other side of the barn where the van had been parked. Lecter followed.

They quietly left the barn and found the van still parked where the Sardinians had left it. Clarice ran around to the drivers side and opened the door. Thankfully the keys were left in the ignition. "Come on, Dr. Lecter, get in." She paused, her lips slightly parted. She was looking out through the passenger window at Lecter who had turned to look behind him, watching for anyone who may have seen them. The back of his shirt, or rather what was left of it, was covered with blood. _How could I not have noticed this?_ _I guess now I know why my foot pressing into his chest hurt him so damn bad._ "God, what happened to you? What did they do to you?"

Lecter turned back around and gracefully walked to the open window opposite of Clarice. Despite his obvious injuries, he managed to remain poised as dancer, so much like Clarice remembered him from all those years ago in Memphis. His jaw was set and his face devoid of all emotion. "Get in."

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then climbed into the drivers seat and closed her door. Lecter got in on the passenger side and sat there waiting for her to drive. She regarded him for a moment then put the vehicle into gear and pressed the accelerator.

Clarice found and followed a secluded maintenance road that come out on the main road. They rode in silence until the van turned onto the highway. "So where are we going?" Clarice asked.

"I have a small cottage on the bay. It should be a safe place to stay for a few days until the media attention dies down." He gave her the directions.

Clarice complied. Heavy silence once again shrouded them. The setting sun was still trying to give off its last few rays of light. Soon the sky was dark so Clarice turned the headlights on. She drove on, going a couple miles under the speed limit so they wouldn't attract any unwanted attention. The lights on the dashboard gave off an eery glow. Clarice reached out with one hand and turned the radio on. The sounds of heavy metal music blared out from the van's speakers. She quickly turned it off and focused her attention once again on driving.

"How much further is this place?"

"Only a few more miles. We should be there in ten minutes or so," his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. He sat straight up with his back a few inches away from the seat. Clarice glanced over at him.

"So what happened?"

"Clarice, I think it's best if you keep your eyes on the road." Her eyes darted back to the road just in time to see a small doe trot across in front of them. She watched the deer run into the dark woods on the far side of the road.

They traveled the remainder of the drive in silence. The van rolled into the driveway of the cottage. Clarice parked it close to the door. She got out, leaving the keys in the ignition, and went around the front of the van to join Lecter. He led her to the front door. Clarice followed him, staring at his blood soaked, ripped shirt. Beneath the material, she glimpsed long, deep cuts stretching from one side of his back to the other.

Lecter opened the door, it was unlocked, and stood back holding it for her. Clarice walked through the doorway into the darkened house. She stood still in the entryway while Lecter closed the door behind her. Her eyes probed the darkness, trying to see into the rest of the house, to see how he lives. She stopped when she felt Lecter pass close by and pause in front of her. She felt the warmth from his body, they were mere inches apart. He brought up his arms and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

Clarice looked up into his maroon eyes. Her arms were limp at her sides and her chest rose and fell with every breath. "I'm fine, Dr. Lecter."

He dropped his hands and eyed her for a moment. Her face was strong, his warrior. "Ok, but we will come back to this later."

"Are you alright, Dr. Lecter? You had better let me take a look at your back."

Lecter waved away the comment. "It's not too bad." He turned to go into the room.

"Bullshit, Dr. Lecter, and you know it," Clarice's voice was forceful. Any other be instantly killed if they spoke to Lecter in such a tone.

He stopped in the doorway between the entryway and the living room leading off to the right. He hands were braced on either side of the doorway. Even in the darkness, Clarice could see the dark blood covering his back. A few droplets of blood had dripped their way to the top of his pants. She imagined the pain must be intense even for him. Lecter pushed off from the doorframe and turned to face her again. "Oh?"

"Yes. Just let me take a look. I think a few of those will need stitches, they're still bleeding," she said absently pointing in his direction.

"And you're qualified to do that?" He cocked his head to one side, testing her.

"Well," she briefly let her gaze fall to the ground. "I've never actually done it on a person, but I have been trained, yes."

He silently regarded her for a moment. "Alright, Agent Starling, if you must."

Lecter motioned her to follow him up the stairs and the end of the hallway. Clarice followed him through the dark house. Not being able to see where she was going, he stayed close to her side with his hand placed lightly on the small of her back. The heat from his hand radiated throughout her body and she started to feel warm. She pushed the thoughts out of her head. Instead, she was mentally mapping the layout of the house.

Lecter guided her into a room that was completely dark. "Dr. Lecter?"

"I'm right here," he whispered in her ear. His hot breath in her ear sent a slight shiver down her spine and goose bumps sprang up all over. She was sure he could feel them on her back where his hand still rested. "Stand right here for a moment."

The warmth left her and she was left standing alone in the blackness. She did not hear him leave. She jumped when a match struck on the other side of the room. She saw Lecter light a candle, filling the room with its warm glow. She saw that she was standing in his bedroom. A king sized bed lay in the center of the room with a green comforter neatly laid on top of it. To the right was a tall armoire set against the wall. Large white closet doors were to her immediate left. The walls were beige with cherry trim around the door and the two windows on either side of the headboard. The windows were covered with elegant white curtains that hung down to the floor.

Clarice watched Lecter light four more candles and carefully arrange them around the large bed to give the room as much light as possible without drawing too much attention from neighbors. When he finished arranging the candles, he returned to her side. "Is there enough light to suit you?"

She nodded approvingly, "Yes, it should be fine. Now where's the bathroom?"

"Ah yes, of course. Down the hall, first door on the right. Let me get you a candle." Lecter lit another candle for her. She took it from him and walked down the hall to the bathroom.

She slowly closed the door and set the candle on the countertop. She sat down on the lid of the toilet and buried her face in her hands. _Get a hold of yourself, girl. You can do this_. She took a couple deep breaths and raised her head. She took a moment to admire the charming decor. There was an antique cast iron clawfoot tub to her right. Soaps and lotions lined the small shelf next to the chrome faucet. The sink was to her left set in a cream colored marble countertop.

Clarice stood up and rummaged through the medicine cabinet above the sink. She found what she was looking for and took out the items. Cradling them in her arm, she went over to the closet behind the door and took down a washcloth and a towel. She draped the towel and washcloth over her other arm. Opening the door a crack, she turned to the side to grab the candle off the counter. She wedged her foot in through the door and swung it open.

She walked back down the hall with her arms full and returned to the master bedroom. She found Lecter resting in a chair in the corner to her left. His eyes were closed and he was sitting straight up, being carefully not to stain the antique fabric of the armchair.

Clarice wasn't sure whether she should disturb him or not. She quickly walked over to the side of the bed and placed her items on the night table. She turned around. Lecter was still in his trance-like state. She grabbed her candle again and left the room. She wandered downstairs and soon found herself in the kitchen. After opening a few cupboards she found a large bowl and a pair of scissors. Satisfied, she went back up the stairs to the bedroom again.

This time, Lecter was standing at the foot of the bed waiting for her. His arms were behind his back, resting his hands lightly at the base of his spine. "Ready?" he asked calmly.

"Not quite." Clarice quickly put the scissors next to the other items and left the room again.

She went down the hall to the bathroom again and filled the bowl with hot water. The steam from the water rose up in front of her face, casting an eery shadow across her face. She glanced up into the mirror in front of her. The flame from the candle flickered across her face while the wisps of steam disappeared. She brushed back her hair back behind her ears, exposing her sharp cheek bones. Then she picked up the bowl of hot water and the candle and carried it to the bedroom.

Lecter was still standing at the foot of the bed waiting for her. Clarice looked up into his eyes. "All right, Dr. Lecter. I'm ready. Are you?"

"Yes."

"Umm, well come over here then. We have to get that shirt off," she motioned over to the left side of the bed closest to her supplies. She set the water down on the table. Lecter moved over to her. She stood up and turned around with the scissors in one hands. "Alright, now hold still." She felt stupid telling him that. Of course he would know to hold still, but she felt she had to say something.

Clarice stepped up to him. She looked down to see that his shirt was still mostly tucked in. Her fingers tentatively reached out to touch his shirt. She pulled it out of the front of his pants. Lecter's hands rested at his sides. Then she used the scissors to cut in a straight line up to his neck line. He raised his chin so she could snip the last bit of fabric. She turned around and the set the scissors back on the table behind her. She turned around and placed her hands on Lecter's chest. Slowly she pushed back the ruined shirt. Her hands left burning trails on his hot flesh as she pushed the shirt up and over his shoulders.

The entire time, Lecter watched her face, fascinated. She tried to maintain a professional demeanor but her eyes gave her away. They were so innocent. He could tell that she has never done this before. The shirt fluttered to the floor, leaving Clarice standing before him staring at his massive chest sprinkled with black and gray hairs. She paused for a moment too long, but Lecter didn't move to comment. He wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.

"Ok, now lay down on your stomach so I can clean these." Lecter complied, laying on the bed with his arms folded and his head resting on them. Clarice lightly sat next to him on the edge of the bed. She took a moment to look at the numerous cuts on his back. A few were still wet with blood but most of them were already caked with dried blood. She wet the washcloth and began carefully wiping away the blood.

Although Lecter didn't emit a sound of discomfort, Clarice could tell that this was painful for him. Every time she touched the warm cloth to his skin, his muscles tensed and his temple throbbed. "Do you want any aspirin?"

"No, I'll be fine for now."

Clarice resumed her ministrations. The bowl of water was now a dark, murky red and had cooled to room temperature. She blushed a little when she had to lower the very top of his pants to clean the blood that had dripped down his back and pooled at the base of his spine. She was glad he wasn't able to watch her.

Lecter, although in pain, was enjoying her attentions. The soft touch of her fingers left warm dimples on his back, like the electrical spark that he had experienced so long ago in Memphis. This time she was the one giving and he was on the receiving end. He kept his head turned to one side with his eyes closed. He waited patiently. He felt her fingers on the brim of his pants as she folded back the fabric.

He began to paint a picture of her within his memory palace. She was seated on a bench in the middle of a beautiful garden. It was a warm summer day, the flowers were in full bloom, and the sun shone down on this goddess of the earth. Her auburn hair hung lightly down on her shoulders, partially covering part of her face. She had a strange expression of contentment with a corner of mouth slightly curled up. She wore a white dress that flowed down to the ground. She wore no shoes for there weren't any needed. Her gaze was fixed on the center of a small fountain in the foreground.

In the center of the three-tier fountain was a bronze sculpture of a sleeping lamb. A cross bearing a detailed depiction of Christ pierced its chest, pinning it to the bottom of the fountain. The lamb's tongue hung out of its mouth but otherwise it seemed undisturbed. Water gushed from the top of the fountain, cascading down onto and over the sleeping lamb. The water splashed over the edge and pooled at the base of the fountain. The heavenly woman in the white dress touched a single toe into the cool water. She seemed at piece as the sun illuminated her hair from behind, creating a halo effect.

Lecter heard a song begin to play far away in another part of his memory palace. He tried to place it. It seemed so familiar but somehow more beautiful than anything that he had ever heard before. The song was soothing and sensual but there was an underlying urgency within it. Suddenly he realized that it wasn't a song at all but rather it was someone calling for him.

He quickly withdrew from the halls of his memory palace. He opened his eyes and found himself looking directly into Clarice's eyes. She was bent down next to his side with an arm on each side of him. "Dr. Lecter?" Her brow furrowed.

"Ah, forgive me. I was occupied. Are you done?" he remained still with his head cocked to one side and resting on his arms.

Clarice shook her head. "I think a couple of these are going to need some stitches. They're still bleeding a little, but most of it has stopped."

He hummed and watched as she twisted her body away to reach for the surgical needle and thread. She turned back to him. "Now I haven't done this before but I've watched it done. Do you have any local anesthetic I could give you?"

"It won't be necessary."

She shrugged and began threading the needle. Then she bent over the worst cut and paused with her fingers lightly on his hot skin on either side of the cut. "Ok, Dr. Lecter." She glanced up towards his face, but he had already withdrew again. She didn't blame him.

It took her another twenty minutes to stitch up the worst cuts. She was a little shaky at first but she soon gained confidence. When she was done, she sat back and admired her work. _Not too bad_. She took another moment to watch Lecter in his rested state. He seemed completely at ease considering what he had just been through. The line of his spine ran down his back between his massive shoulders and disappeared beneath the fabric of his pants. She secretly wished she could see his back without the horrible slashes marking it up, it must have been gorgeous previously.

Her eyes traveled up his spine again to the nape of his neck. She could see small delicate hairs growing. Somehow they seemed out of place but they were welcomed. He seemed so... human. She reached out a hand and lightly brushed the downy hairs. Lecter stirred and emitted a deep rumbling from his chest. Her fingers jumped back and froze.

Lecter moved to rest on his side and turned his head to hers. Propped on an elbow, he regarded her for a moment. Clarice didn't know how to respond. Her eyes fell on his arm that had been cut deeply. There was dried stream of blood running down his arm. She reached for the washcloth that had been sitting in the dirty bowl of water. She rung it out and turned back to Lecter. "Give me your arm."

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. They sat side by side with her holding his arm. Her small fingers grasped his arm as she gently wiped away the blood. Lecter watched her as she worked. Her hair partially covered her face and hung down lightly brushing his forearm that she held. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Her taut stomach exposed her unmarked ivory skin below the torn shirt. The warm light from the candles made her absolutely glow.

Clarice finished washing his arm. Still holding it, she leaned forward to discard the washcloth and pick up the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. She let go of his arm for a moment to douse the cotton with the alcohol. Then she resumed her position and further cleansed his wound. Her fingers moved the cotton ball slowly and firmly against his skin. When she was done, she set his arm back down on the bed.

She stood up and began gathering the items from the table. She padded out of the room and put the items back in their designated places. She returned to Lecter's bedroom. Standing in the doorway, she looked at him still sitting on the edge of his bed. "Good night, Dr. Lecter. I think we've both had a long, trying day."

"Where will you sleep?"

"I saw a couch downstairs," she said gesturing down the hall.

"That is hardly the place for a woman to sleep. Take my bed," he stood up from the bed and took a step toward her.

Clarice held up a hand, "No, Dr. Lecter. I could hardly let you sleep on a couch with your back as it is. I'll be perfectly fine." She left the room before Lecter had a chance to protest.

She wandered down the stairs into the living room. Thankfully there were a couple of throw pillows lying on the couch. She threw them to one end and laid down. Exhausted, she curled up on one end and found sleep easily.

Five minutes later, Lecter came downstairs carrying a quilt. He draped it over her thin body and tucked it snugly around her body. He stepped back to take in her form. She needed the rest. He doubted she has had a good night sleep in months. Satisfied, he turned and retired to his own room.

_Krendler ran his right hand from her breast down to between her legs and thrust his fingers inside. Clarice gasped and tried to wiggle out of his grasp but she was paralyzed. Krendler leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Yeah, you like that. Good tight corn pone country puss_y_." He shifted his fingers and tears came into Clarice's eyes. She closed them tight and tried to wish it all away. She could feel the hot breath on her neck and his fingers probing other areas. "See, Starling? This isn't so bad." His other hand was attending to her left breast, squeezing hard. "Yeah, that's right," he murmured in her ear. _

Clarice furiously kicked the blanket off of her and sat up suddenly. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked around the room and realized it was only a dream. She sighed relief and shivered when her body registered the cold air from the empty room. Her stomach was still exposed with the shirt tied tightly below her breasts. She paused for a moment. Realizing that she didn't go to sleep with a blanket, she knew Lecter had come down after she had fallen asleep.

Biting her lower lip, she stood up from the couch and quietly made her way upstairs to Lecter's bedroom. She stood in the doorway for a few minutes watching him sleep. He didn't seem as menacing or powerful at that moment. _Ha, yeah right_, she told herself.

She entered the room, hoping he wouldn't mind her invading his territory. She was drawn to his vulnerable state. Standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes traveled the length of his body. He was lying on his stomach with his arms tucked under his pillow. His scarred back lay exposed to the night air while a sheet covered the lower half of his body. His head was turned towards the empty side of the large bed, searching for something or someone to fill the void.

Clarice watched his back rise and fall with every breath in a slow, steady rhythm. Goose bumps sprang up all over her body and she shuddered. The cold air surrounded her, suddenly making her want to seek refuge. She spied the empty side of the bed. Biting her lower lip, she silently tiptoed over to it. Slowly raising the corner of the blanket, she slipped in underneath. Instantly she felt the heat from Lecter's body. Careful not to disturb the springs of the bed, she turned her body so she could watch his sleeping face. She put her hands together and rested her cheek on them. She fell asleep to the steady sounds of his breathing.

In the early morning light of the new day, Lecter watched the beautiful woman beside him. He had turned onto his side to behold the sleeping goddess who had come in the middle of the night to share his bed. He followed the curves of her face with his eyes, her high sharp cheekbones melting into the hollows under her eyes. Her auburn hair was swept back across the pillow and her supple pink lips begged for attention. He laid there content for nearly an hour studying her and submitting every detail to his memory palace before she finally woke up.

Her eyes fluttered open and fixed immediately on his. Suspended in the delicate threads of time, they held each other's gaze for countless minutes. Neither said a word. There was nothing to say in that timeless moment. Clarice smiled a little and Lecter returned it. It was Clarice who broke the silence, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me stay."

"You are always welcome."

At that, Clarice sat up in the bed and brushed her hair back with her hands. Lecter noticed the curve of her spine below her shirt. He wished he could run a finger lightly along it to know how it felt, but now was not the time. Clarice plopped her hands onto the blankets in her lap and let out a long slow breath. "What now?"

Lecter sat up next to her. "First of all, we must dispose of the van while it is still early."

Clarice nodded. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the cold hardwood floor and she shivered. Lecter noticed and said, "Allow me to give you a shirt of mine. That is hardly decent to be wandering about in."

He threw back the covers and placed his feet on the floor. He padded over to the armoire and pulled out a drawer. Clarice sat on the edge of the bed watching him. She couldn't help but laugh inwardly at herself to see Lecter standing next to the armoire dressed only in a pair of silk green boxers. She decided not to comment, but was amused nonetheless. Watching his taut body as he rummaged the drawer for a proper shirt, she felt a strange feeling surface. She choked it off from fully revealing itself and quickly put it back into submission.

"Ah, I think this one will suit you," he said as he selected a navy long sleeved shirt. He carried the shirt over to her. She took it from him and put it on over the one she already wore. "Thank you. Now let's get this over with. Where are we going to take it?"

"There's a place on the bay that is quite deep," he said, taking a black long sleeved shirt out of the armoire.

"Okay."

Lecter slipped the shirt over his head. The stitches stretched but held. Clarice had done a good job. "Perhaps you should freshen up before we leave?"

Clarice nodded and left the room. Standing in the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess so she tried to smooth it as best she could. Black circles shadowed her eyes, her face gaunt. She turned on the water and bent to splash the cold water on her face. She patted her face dry on the hand towel hanging on a ring next to the sink. Giving one last side glance to the mirror, she traveled down the hall back to the bedroom.

Lecter was gazing out the window when she came in. Clarice felt like she paled in comparison to him. He was dressed all in black and was wearing his fedora. She marveled at the contrast between his tanned skin and his clothes. _Damn, how can he look so damn handsome!_ Her heart was pounding, but there was work to be done.

"Are you ready, Dr. Lecter?"

Lecter turned with his arms at his side. "Yes."

Lecter followed Clarice out of the room. They paused for a moment in the entryway to put on their shoes. Then they exited the house. As the cool wind hit her body, she was thankful for the warm shirt that Lecter had given her. "Clarice," she stopped and turned to the sound of his voice. He extended a set of keys to her. "There is a car behind the house. You can follow me to the disposal place."

Clarice nodded and took the keys from him. She walked away to find the car. Rounding the corner of the house, her eyes widened. Sitting in the middle of the house was a polished black Jaguar. She opened the door and sat down in the leather driver's seat. She ran her hands over the smooth steering wheel. A minute later, the engine roared to life and she pulled out from behind the house to follow the van.

Forty-five minutes later, Clarice and Lecter stood side by side watching the water consume the van and pull it further into its depths. Bubbles rose to the surface of the water, gulping and smacking its aqueous lips. Lecter turned away from the edge of the water and began walking towards his Jaguar. Clarice took one last glance as the devoured vehicle sank into oblivion, then turned to follow Lecter. He stood holding the door open for her. She climbed into the passenger seat and plopped her hands in her lap. Lecter shut the door. He rounded the front of the car and got into the driver's seat.

He slicked his hair back and started the engine. He turned the car around and Clarice listened to the purr as she stared out the window. The sun had risen a considerable distance since she woke up. She glanced at the digital time display. 9:37. She watched the white line of the pavement outside the window. She turned to look at Lecter who was concentrating on the road. He appeared lost in his own thoughts, occasionally snaking out the tip of his tongue to touch the middle of his upper lip.

Clarice resented herself for breaking his concentration, but she was compelled to ask. "What do we do now?"

He took a moment to respond. "We wait," he said simply.

"We wait? How long do you think? I'm expecting Pearsall to call me anytime to let me know when I can go back to work."

Lecter glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Then he slammed on the breaks and pulled over to the side of the road. It was the only car on the road. Lecter quickly turned to face her. "Do you honestly think they'll take you back? Excuse my language, but how much shit are you going to take before they run you into the ground and trample your body into the earth?"

Clarice's mouth hung open a little. She blinked. The truth seared her body, but she'd be damned before she let him know. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Dr. Lecter? Where am I supposed to go? What am I going to do? I don't have anyone to turn to. The FBI is all I know and I'm going to hang onto it as long as I can."

"How much comfort can you obtain from a one-sided relationship? You would give everything, your very soul, for that institution and what do they give you in return? A blade in your back? More lies to spread to the papers? Do you think they will welcome you with open arms?"

Every word he said was true. Clarice knew that the FBI gave her nothing in return save for all of the troubles in her life. She knew if she was to go back, the rumors and whispers behind her back would only multiply. She knew all this, but it was all she had. She had no family and her only friend had moved to California to get married.

Clarice never took her eyes from Lecter's, but he could see the machinery toiling away inside her head. Her eyes glazed over, then she set her jaw. Her gaze intensified. "So what do you propose I do, Dr. Lecter? Work in a motel on Route 66 just like my _mommy_?" she said mimicking what Lecter had asked her only the day before.

"Clarice..." he warned. If anyone else had mocked him, they would have been dead in seconds. For her, he'd make an exception and ignored it.

"Well what do you want me to do?" She tossed her hands in the air for emphasis. When he didn't answer she fell back into the seat defeated. She brought her hands up to her head and swept back her hair.

Clarice began to laugh. Lecter raised an eyebrow at her. She caught his expression out of the corner of her eye and it only made her laugh harder. Shudders of laughter racked her body, leaving her nearly breathless. She laughed for her hardships. She laughed for her pain. She even laughed for the love that was never present in her life. Tears of laughter, anguish, anxiety, and fear ran down her cheeks and dripped onto Lecter's shirt. After a few minutes the tremors receded and she was left holding her stomach to ease the pain.

Lecter silently watched the waves of emotions slam her body and waited until she was done. When the pain in her stomach was mostly gone, she turned to look at Lecter. He stretched out his arm and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "I want you to do what your heart tells you," he said lightly placing his hand between her breasts to rest on top of her heart.

One more tear streaked down her cheek and it stayed suspended on her jawline. Lecter took his hand away and placed it on the steering wheel, shifting his body to face the road once again. Clarice wiped away the tear and turned to look out the window again. Lecter put the car in gear and drove off. They rode the rest of the way back to Lecter's home in silence.

As the Jaguar rolled to a stop in the back of the house, Lecter asked, "How about breakfast?"

Clarice shook her head. "I'm not that hungry."

"Clarice, you know better than to lie to me. You haven't ate for two days."

"Well okay, Dr. Lecter, but please don't make too much," she said opening the car door.

"Agreed."

Clarice followed Lecter into the house. They took off their shoes at the door. Lecter went into the kitchen and Clarice went into the living room. She plopped down on the couch. She still felt exhausted from the past couple days. She scanned the room and saw a television sitting over in the corner. She thought it was odd that Lecter would have a television within a hundred feet of himself, let alone have one in his own home.

Clarice walked over the television that was sitting on a small table. She checked to see if it was plugged in then turned it on. She stared in horror at what she saw on the screen and the words that were coming from the woman's mouth. Clarice brought her hand up to cover her mouth and sat back on her feet to listen:

_... sources indicate that Special Agent Clarice Starling has been reported missing and is believed to have aided in the escape of lethal madman Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Authorities captured Dr. Lecter yesterday morning outside of Agent Starling's house. Deputy Assistant Inspector General Paul Krendler tells reporters that Dr. Lecter was taken to police headquarters temporarily where Agent Starling gained access and helped him escape. It is believed that the two have secretly been lovers ever since Agent Starling consulted Dr. Lecter seven years ago..._

Both of their pictures were shown on the screen with physical descriptions. "Damn," she muttered. "Fuckin' DAMN!" She turned the tv off.

Lecter had heard the television turn on and had been listening to the reporter. He came in when he heard Clarice curse. She turned around to face him and stood up. Anger reddened her face and she kept herself in check to keep herself from screaming at Lecter. "That fucking Krendler. What the hell am I going to do now? I can never go back. Now I'm a fugitive of the law and I haven't even done anything! Son of a –" She shook her head and momentarily closed her eyes. "I need to get out. Run for a while to clear my head. I just..."

She started for the door, but Lecter blocked her. "Let me go, dammit!" She tried to go around him but he quickly brought his hands up to her shoulders and held her in place in front of him. "Dr. Lecter, I'm warning you. Let me go!" She started pounding on him, striking hard jabs into his massive chest. "Dr. Lecter..." she sobbed.

Lecter brought her to him, partly so she couldn't hit him but also to comfort her. She collapsed into his arms and he held her tightly against his chest. When her knees buckled, he went down with her, gently lowering her to her knees. He held her like that on their knees in the doorway of the living room until she was silent. He brushed her hair down and pushed it back so he could look into her face. She sniffed. "I didn't hurt you did I? I'm sorry. It's just that... damn that Krendler..."

"Shhh... never mind. Why don't you go upstairs and take a long, hot bath? I will have breakfast ready by the time you're done," he slowly stood, pulling her up with him. She nodded and started walking up the stairs.

Clarice poured herself a hot bath, nearly scalding, and added some of the soaps that were on the shelf. She undressed and lowered herself into the water. The water enveloped her, creating a warm sense of security. She laid her head back, closed her eyes, and succumbed to serenity.

Forty-five minutes later, Clarice descended the stairs and joined Lecter in the kitchen. He looked up from a cup of coffee and said, "Feeling better my dear?"

"Yes, much. Thank you, Dr. Lecter." She ran her fingers through her wet hair, trying to remove all of the tangles. She sat down at the table next to the large window in the kitchen. She looked across the table at Lecter. He set down his coffee cup and rose from the table. He picked something up from the counter and set it down in front of her.

Clarice picked up her fork and started eating her hashbrowns and sausage. She savored the flavors that seemed to explode in her mouth. She couldn't remember the last time that she had a home cooked meal. Lecter watched her intently, pleased with himself.

When she was done, she looked up at Lecter. Guiltily she asked, "Aren't you going to have any, Dr. Lecter?"

He shook his head, "No, I already ate some."

Clarice wiped her mouth on her napkin and set it beside her plate. She sat back in her chair and stared out the window. "What are we going to do now, Dr. Lecter?"

"Well, I have a few items that I need to pick up in town and a few arrangements to make. I suggest you stay here and rest until I return."

She turned in her chair to face him. "What? But... you're all over the news and..."

He held up a hand to silence her. "My dear, I have been doing this for quite a long time," he said and winked.

Smiling, she rose from her chair. "Well, in that case, I think I'm going to get some more sleep." She exited the room and went up the stairs to the bedroom. She curled up beneath the sheets and laid her head on the pillow, inhaling his scent. A few minutes later, as she was falling asleep, she heard the Jaguar come to life and drive off.

Clarice jerked awake and opened her eyes. The waning light of the evening poured in through the windows and bathed the room with its dim glow. _Damn, how long have I been sleeping? _She turned onto her back and stretched. A twinge of pain stabbed her back and she winced. Recollections of being slammed to the pavement and tied up for hours flooded her mind. "Hannibal," she whispered to the empty room. She rolled out of the bed and padded out of the room.

She rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped short in mid-step. Paul Krendler sat in one of the kitchen chairs facing her. Recognition spread across his face, "Starling, how did I know that you would be here? Are you fucking him?"

She felt confused. What the hell was Krendler doing here? "What..." she started to say.

"I knew it. No wonder you're such a cold fish. You're banging the fuckin' ten most wanted. Is he good? I'm sure we can have a go before he comes back," he licked his lips.

Clarice ignored his comments and surveyed the room. The only things different from that morning were the paper bags on the counter and the disgusting man sitting in the kitchen chair. Correction - tied to the kitchen chair. She noticed his hands were wrapped around his back and numerous strips of duct tape encircling him, binding him tightly to the back of the chair.

"Where's Dr. Lecter?"

"How the hell should I know?

She nodded, of course he wouldn't know. Then her question was answered when Lecter walked in the kitchen from behind her carrying two more paper bags. Now he was dressed in a finely tailored black suit. He lightly brushed by her as he went over to set the bags down on the counter. "Good evening, Clarice. I trust you slept well?"

"What's going on here, Dr. Lecter?"

He turned around. "Ah, him," he said pointing. "He will be joining us for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. "And just what exactly are we having for dinner?"

"Clarice... you know you should never ask," he said and winked.

She refused to move from her spot until she received an answer from him. "Dr. Lecter..."

"Clarice," he said sharply, with a hint of warning in his voice. He handed her two bags that were on the counter. "Now go upstairs and change for dinner. I promise it will be something special." He smiled, showing his small pointy white teeth.

She gave up trying to get an answer out of him. She took one last glance at Krendler, who had been watching them hungrily, before she walked back up the stairs to the bedroom. She set the two bags on the bed and then went over to the table to light a few candles to brighten the room.

Emptying out the contents of the smaller first bag, Clarice could hardly believe what she saw. Hairbrushes, lipsticks, blushes, eye liners, powders, perfumes and small boxes of jewelry lie in a pile on the corner of the bed. It all looked expensive. She couldn't recognize any of the brand names. She looked in the next bag and reached in for the first box. She took off the lid and saw the same pair of Gucci shoes that she had found in the photo booth the day before.

Setting the box down, she reached in for the second box. This one was smaller. She opened it and stared down at a few items of lingerie. Bemused, she picked up a pair of black satin panties. _Now just what exactly is he thinking? _she thought with a slight smirk on her face. She dropped that box on the bed and took the last box out of the bottom of the bag.

This box was quite a bit larger than the rest. She removed the lid and gasped when she saw the piece of fabric inside. She carefully lifted the gown out of the box and held it out in front of her. She couldn't quite tell if it was black or blue. Her eyes reflected the shimmer of both colors as she looked at it from different angles. She gently laid it on the bed.

Clarice slipped out of her dirty cargos, Lecter's shirt, and her ripped shirt that she had still been wearing. Then she removed her panties and slipped on the satin ones that Lecter had bought for her. The smooth fabric glided against her skin. She didn't bother with a bra as she slipped on the dress. The material was light but clung snugly to the curves of her body. She looked down at the plunging neck line that was suggestive but tasteful. Thin straps wrapped over her shoulders and tapered to expose her entire back.

Her ivory skin contrasted nicely with the dark fabric. She felt completely out of place but she decided she might as well enjoy it while she could. She took the Gucci shoes out of the box and carefully slipped them on. She decided against makeup. Instead she selected a small perfume bottle and dabbed a couple spots on her neck and wrists. Its aroma was honey with a hint of some kind of fruit, maybe strawberry. She brushed out her hair until it shone and was straight once again.

Clarice took a deep breath, trying to collect herself before she returned to the hell that was her life. She exited the room and gracefully descended the stairs. She turned the corner and froze in the doorway of the kitchen. Her face paled and she was robbed of her breath. "Dr. Lecter... ?" she whispered.

Lecter looked up from what he was doing. Clarice stood in the doorway to the kitchen with one hand placed on the doorframe, steadying herself. Her ivory skin was a few shades lighter than it should be. Her other hand hung limply to her side. He took a moment to note how the dress she wore accentuated her ever curve. She looked magnificent. Her lower lip quivered.

He straightened up and warmly welcomed her with an outstretched arm, "Good evening, Clarice." He smiled but she seemed unsure. Something flickered across her eyes. Was it fear? "Come. Sit," he said gesturing toward the chair on the opposite side of the table. She hesitated for a moment, but there was a threatening look in Lecter's blood red eyes. She slowly closed the distance and sat down in the chair.

Clarice couldn't take her eyes off of the scene before her. Krendler sat in his chair. This time it was pushed farther back from the table. His head hung down and rested on his chest while a thin string of saliva hung from the corner of his mouth. His hands were grasped tightly around the arm rests of the chair, his knuckles white from strain. Traveling her eyes down his body, she could see his jeans were ripped neatly open. The flaps hung on either side, exposing his entire thigh. Well, what was left of his thigh... Most of his thigh was lying as a slab on a digital scale that was set in the middle of the table. The display read 0.60. Blood was dripping down on either side of the scale, pooling on the table.

"Paul? Aren't you going to welcome our guest?" Lecter waited expectantly.

When no reply came from the man hunched over in the chair, Lecter said, "Okie dokie" and twisted around to retrieve a salt shaker from the counter behind him. Lecter bent over Krendler and shook some salt into the wound. Then he reached a hand down to grind the salt grains into the flesh. Krendler threw his head back, gritted his teeth, and howled in pain.

"Are you ready to be polite?"

Krendler nodded vigorously and choked out, "Starling. Nice to have you here."

Clarice watched wide-eyed. She knew Lecter's case file and all of the atrocities he had committed but the information had never been absorbed completely. Her eyes shifted from Krendler to Lecter and back again. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes but she forced them back. Secretly, she loved seeing Krendler in pain. The bastard deserved every bit of torture he was receiving, but another part of her said that this was all wrong. Lecter picked up the filet knife that was laying on the table. He checked the scale again and said to Krendler, "No, we're still not done yet."

Krendler tried to protest but Lecter's tone told him otherwise, "Now Paul..."

Clarice watched as Lecter lowered the knife to Krendler's exposed thigh. The sharp knife sliced easily through the trembling muscles. Krendler's hands gripped the arm of the chair. A low moan escaped him, echoing in the otherwise silent room. Lecter pulled the flesh away as he cut. Then he plopped the meat onto the scale. It read 0.85. Lecter frowned.

"Dr. Lecter..." Clarice began. "Why are you doing this?"

Lecter paused over Krendler's thigh and turned to her. "A pound of flesh, no more, no less. No cartilage, no bone, but only flesh." He cut a another piece and placed it on the scale. It read 1.00. "This task is done and he would go free."

"What-" she started.

"Clarice, have you every thought of what your life would be like if you didn't have the FBI?"

"No... and why would I? It is all I have."

They held each other's gaze and paused for a moment. Then Lecter spoke, "I see. Well, please allow me to tell you. There would be no whispers behind your back, your life wouldn't be put on the line day after day, and you wouldn't come home to an empty house to drink yourself to sleep every night."

The truth hurt. Clarice felt the needles prick her heart but she couldn't protest. Every word he said was true, as always. She refused to let the tears flow though. No, not tonight. She glanced over in Krendler's direction. His head was once again lying on his chest and his eyes were rolled back up in his head. She could feel a slight tingle, his ghost hand traveling once again over her breast. She shuddered.

Lecter quickly stretched a hand in her direction, "Are you cold, my dear?" She instinctively snapped her hand out and grasped his wrist. She looked up into his eyes. He waited to see what she would do, letting her hold his wrist suspended above the table. Clarice felt the heat from his skin penetrate hers and spread halfway up her arm. Then she understood. Everything came rushing into her mind at the same time. Baltimore: the towel offering. Memphis: "People will say we're in love," the electrifying spark when their fingers touched. Yesterday in Mason's barn: "How dare I what? Ask you about your life? State the facts? Care?" She knew. The letters, the skin cream, everything... she finally understood. She realized why he came halfway around the world just to see her. She acknowledged his offering.

Lecter watched her, fascinated at the speed of the emotions racing across her features. The experience had to be overwhelming for her. Still grasping his wrist, she slowly rose from her chair and rounded the corner of the table to stand directly in front of him. Mere inches from his face, she whispered, "Dr. Lecter... I'm so sorry." Her warm breath touched his face. A wry grin lifted up a corner of her mouth. She looked in Krendler's directions. "I'm hungry."

He cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. Her hand trembled slightly against his wrist. "Oh?" he said.

She turned back to face him. "Yes, I am suddenly in the mood for some steak," she said smiling.

Lecter returned her smile and grasped her around the waist with his other hand. He drew her to him. Clarice felt the warmth of his body pressing against her but somehow this felt so right, despite what he has done. He leaned in close to her face, "Are you sure, Clarice? Once you choose you can never turn back."

Clarice took one last glance at Krendler, smirked, and said, "Dr. Lecter, I have nothing to turn back to. You are all I have now."

He felt a twinge in his heart. For years he has longed to hear her say those words, but he never dared to mull over the idea. He lightly kissed her temple and then pushed her away. "Well then, what kind of host would I be if I let my guest go hungry?"

He moved over to the counter and picked up a portable burner and a copper skillet. He set the burner on the table and placed the skillet on top. He turned the gas on, allowing a blue flame to rise up and lick the bottom of the pan. Clarice sat back down across from Krendler. She curiously watched him as he gripped and released his hold on the arms of his chair. His skin was pale. She thought he must have lost quite a bit of blood already and judging by the small pool on the floor beneath his chair, she was probably right.

That night, Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter enjoyed the flesh graciously provided by Paul Krendler. Krendler passed away somewhere between the main course and dessert when Lecter suggested to Clarice that they leave the country the next day. She smiled and appeared eager to begin her new life. Conversation was light during dinner. Lecter cleared the table while Clarice finished her wine.

After the dishes were cleaned and put away, the two went upstairs retired for the night. Clarice checked his stitches once before they went to bed. She lightly ran her finger over them as Lecter lie still on his stomach. Lecter let Clarice sleep in one of his shirts. They crawled beneath the covers into the warmth. Clarice fell asleep in the arms of Lecter with a small smile on her face. Lecter lie awake for over an hour stroking her hair, inhaling her scent, and asking himself if this was indeed real.

The next evening, Clarice found herself on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean. The warm, salty breeze from the ocean weaving its fingers through her hair. As she gazed into the sunset, she reflected on the events that had happened in the previous two days. She started out a morning in search of a killer, but ended up catching a lover. _Well, not yet anyway_, she thought with a smile. Despite the exhausting plane ride and preparations, she was eager for Hannibal to return.

Somewhere in the enormous house behind her, she heard a door slam shut. She quickly turned around and ran inside. She met Hannibal in hallway. They embraced and walked hand in hand to the bedroom. That night Hannibal found out how sure she was. She had offered her virginity to him and he was euphoric when he knew what he had taken. Never before had she offered herself to a man. Tonight was different. She gave herself freely to the one man who could see her into her soul and only want more. Clarice fell asleep a satisfied woman and rested peacefully in the silence of the lambs for the first time in years.


End file.
